


The Green

by Ataraxetta



Series: Sanity is Overrated [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Fighting, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, fitting room sex, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3484652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ataraxetta/pseuds/Ataraxetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There's a very long moment of profound silence, and then Eggsy punches Harry right in his smug fucking face.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Green

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [The Green 翡翠色领带](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761230) by [Glacier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glacier/pseuds/Glacier)



> First try at Kingsman fic. God please let it be my last! I apologize in advance for the sap.

**The Green**

It's a new suit. Virgin wool, double breasted, charcoal grey. It fits like a glove, but Eggsy still feels weird as fuck in threads this posh. Out there when he's working in them they feel all right, and so does he, like he's fighting the good fight and all that, like he belongs, like he's competent and a functional adult. Here he still feels like a chavvy shithead kid with bruises on his mouth 'cos he keeps opening it. He straightens the lapels and smooths a hand down the front. It's not exactly him but it's the Eggsy That Could Be, and it looks damn good. He smiles dashingly at himself in the mirror. "You were right. Check suits me," he says to the tailor Marcus. Marcus doesn't laugh, so Eggsy elbows him a bit. "Get it? _Suits_ me."

The top of Marcus's balding head doesn't even reach Eggsy's shoulder. He has to look up a bit to make sure Eggsy sees his eyes roll. Eggsy respects that sort of dedication. He likes Marcus a lot. "Your wit, Galahad, as always," says Marcus. He leaves it at that, brushes his hands over Eggsy's shoulders and steps back, scrutinizing. After a few seconds his lips purse. "Take off that tie."

"Oi," says Eggsy. He grabs at the knot of it possessively, frowning. "I like this tie."

"Try this green one," says Marcus, holding it up. It's emerald with light blue stripes.

"I like the navy, with the red," Eggsy says. That's all he's got at home. Dozens of them. "It's my signature look, mate."

He does as he's told, though, loosens his tie and unbuttons his jacket as Marcus looks at him with a shrewd expression on his face. "It was a signature look long before it was yours." Well, shit. Point to the old man, and _ouch_. Marcus catches Eggsy's wince and softens. "Try this green one," he says with a pat to Eggsy's shoulder. "It will bring out your eyes."

The bell on the front door of the shop rings. Marcus isn't the only tailor on hand to greet customers, but he politely excuses himself and steps out anyway. Eggsy makes a face at the closed door, knots the tie like he was taught and buttons his jacket back up. There's a new pair of Oxfords, and he sits down to put them on, then his watch, and his ring, and his glasses. He steps back onto the pedestal to take in the full effect and blows a loud raspberry at his reflection. "Don't look right," he mutters, turning this way and that, feeling like a kid playing at being a man again. The green tie feels too crisp, and too tight, like it might choke him. "I like the navy one, with the red."

He's still staring sullenly when Marcus returns. "Oi, Marcus, mate, I really prefer the navy tie, y'know? Looks better."

The response is almost imperceptibly delayed. "You think so?"

It's not Marcus. It's not Marcus's voice. It's a voice Eggsy thought he'd forgot. He goes bitter ice cold, all the blood draining out of his face and the bottom dropping out of his stomach. There's a signet ring that's too big for his fingers on a chain around his neck, and he can feel his heart pounding right up against the weight of it on his chest. Eggsy drags his eyes up to catch sight of the newcomer in the mirror. He's got glasses and a nice watch and he's wearing a Savile Row bespoke suit. Virgin wool. Double breasted. Black pinstripe. Fits him like a glove. His tie is navy blue with red stripes.

"I quite like the green on you," says Harry Hart. "It brings out your eyes."

Eggsy makes a noise in his throat that doesn't make it out past the swelling lump of all the grief he's been swallowing back for so long. He drinks in the sight of Harry like a man dying of thirst, inch by inch from head to toe and back again. He's never been struck speechless before but his voice is gone. His vision is starting to blur. He can't even pick his jaw up off the floor before the fitting room door opens again and Marcus walks in with cufflinks.

Eggsy stares at him. His face feels numb - he's got no clue what his expression is like - but Marcus clears his throat uncomfortably and says, "Oh, Galahad. Have you met Arthur?"

There's a very long moment of profound silence, and then Eggsy punches Harry right in his smug fucking face.

It snaps Harry's head back, which is just enough of a distraction for Eggsy to launch himself at him and take them both to the floor. He fights like a rabid dog. He punches and kicks and bites and scratches, and he's good but Harry's better, so once his legs and arms are pinned Eggsy resorts to shouting himself hoarse. Harry Hart is a fucking filthy festering pus-filled dickwound. He's a cowardly lying cunt and also a _fucking arsehole_ and Eggsy lets him know it. Then he cries, a bit, half sat in Harry's lap while Harry rubs his back.

"Finished?" says Harry once Eggsy's breath has stopped hitching.

"Fuck you, you fucking prick," says Eggsy. He smears snot all over the shoulder of Harry's suit before he lifts his head. Marcus is gone and they're alone. If he's quick enough, he could dig his ring into Harry's ribs and send whateverty-zillion volts through his perfectly alive body before anyone noticed. He has half a mind to do just that, but he settles for sniffling hard and wiping his nose with the back of his hand just so Harry makes that disapproving face he used to do when he thought Eggsy was being uncivilized. He still does it. Because he's actually still alive. Eggsy could honestly just shoot him in the fucking head again. "You died," he says. "I saw it. Valentine killed you."

Harry sighs, like Eggsy's being deliberately thick, but his hand stays steady on the small of Eggsy's back. "Obviously not."

For a second, Eggsy considers shouting some more, demanding answers, but before he can think of which question he wants to ask first doubt filters in. He's not sure he actually wants to know. There's a more than good chance that he won't like what he hears, how Harry's alive or why he's kept quiet about it for nearly a goddamn year. How he could just let Eggsy go on thinking he's dead when he's not. Harry's probably pretty fucked up, after killing all those people, even though it wasn't really him. He looks tired and Eggsy doesn't wanna know why. It's easier to say nothing, to just sit here with Harry on the floor and not know anything at all. 

Harry's not anymore talkative. His hand leaves Eggsy's back only to push up underneath his jacket and rest there again so Eggsy can feel the warmth. His bottom lip is split where Eggsy hit him, and straddling his lap like he is Eggsy's taller for once. He leans in, puts most of his weight on his knees so their hips shove together and bites back a little moan. His dick is hard as diamond in his trousers. He's fucked up in the head in a lot of ways, so it's not really a surprise. Aftermath of the tussle, maybe, or the scent of Harry's subtle cologne, or sitting here with a ghost. It only matters that Harry's hard too. He feels huge, big bulge of him against the back of Eggsy's thigh.

Just the idea of it has Eggsy Pavlovian, mouth flooding 'cos he wants it so bad, and he's mad that he does. He's wanted to get on his knees for Harry since he took out the whole of Dean's idiot dogs with an umbrella. He's been head-over-arse stupid in love with him since Harry woke up at HQ after the climate scientist guy Arnold exploded all over him, and let Eggsy sit quiet next to him and hold his hand. They spent nine months building up to something that never happened.

Eggsy's still angry, but just a low burn like a simmer in his blood that's more horny than anything else. He tugs at the knot of the green tie around his neck until Harry bats his hand out of the way and takes over. He uses both hands, pulls it loose and then undone, and then unfastens the first five or six buttons of Eggsy's shirt and slips his hand inside, curls his fingers around the signet ring and rubs his thumb in a slow circle over Eggsy's skin. Eggsy doesn't ask how Harry knew it was there, all Eggsy had left of him tucked into the hollow of his chest.

"I assume the electroshock function has been deactivated," Harry says. Eggsy narrows his eyes.

"You want me," he says. He says it kinda mean, because he feels like he's been wrenched wide open for Harry to look at his still beating heart and everything that's in it, but Harry doesn't take the bait. He says, "since I saw the footage of what got you arrested," and pulls Eggsy's face down to snare his mouth and kisses him with all that repressed want. It's hot, sharp, aggressive in a good way. Harry's good at this. So good that Eggsy kisses him back like it doesn't matter that he'll probably never trust him again. Don't really need trust for this.

He unbuttons Harry's rumpled jacket, and then his trousers, and then sorts his own out. While his hands are busy Harry tugs him in close by the hips and spreads his legs so Eggsy's open wider. There's nothing gentlemanly about the way they spit into their hands and pull each other off, fast and rough and filthy. It feels better than anything Eggsy's ever felt before, and he comes fast and gets hard again just as quick now it's all slick and wet between them. Harry's got stamina. He lasts for ages but Eggsy can see he has to try at it, and when he comes it's a lot, big cock jerking in Eggsy's hand, eyes closed and red mouth lax and open.

Eggsy doesn't kiss him again until he's shuddering through the mind-melting rush of his second orgasm, and he does it longer than he means to and softer, wet and slow and deep as he recovers. Harry's hands tug Eggsy's shirt loose and slide up his back underneath it, over the curve of his spine and back down to his hips, skin to skin through the sweat. It's intimate, makes Eggsy feel like an open wound, and he fucking _hates_ Harry just then. For getting his dad killed. For busting him out of jail. For treating him like a person. For dying. For being alive. He cards his fingers through Harry's thick hair and leaves them tangled there, catching his breath.

"I didn't want to...abandon you," Harry says after a bit. He sounds different than he ever has before, or maybe Eggsy's just forgot that he can get earnest and awkward like this. The way he's looking at Eggsy is so intense it makes heat bloom in Eggsy's chest, so hot Eggsy almost can't bear it. Harry's fingers find the signet ring again, then flit to Eggsy's father's medal, brow furrowing. Eggsy huffs a strained laugh.

"Weren't ever like that, Harry. Weren't ever lookin' for a daddy figure. We weren't like that. We was friends, right?" He breathes harshly through his nose, confidence shakier. "By the end I wasn't just an obligation to you no more."

Harry lets the necklace drop in favor of cupping the back of Eggsy's neck in a grip so commanding that Eggsy instinctively goes slack underneath it. "We were friends," Harry says. "We _are_ friends."

"You fuckin' lied to me," Eggsy tells him. "That's not somethin' friends do." His voice doesn't break but it feels like it could on any word. The way Harry's mouth pulls into a stubborn twist is bloody infuriating.

"I'm not going to apologize for doing my job. I told you before, a Kingsman's first priority will always be his work." Harry takes a slow breath and lets it out again, stalling, like he's searching for words. "But I will admit that for the first time I didn't want it to be," he says. He says, "I wanted it to be you."

Eggsy's got Harry's come all over his hands, and on his brand new suit. He's hot all over. Harry strokes delicately over the shell of Eggsy's ear with his free hand, cups the back of his head and draws him down until their foreheads touch. Eggsy has a million questions and he's too fuckin' chicken shit to ask, but it feels like Harry's already answered the most important one anyway.

**

"I like your tie," Roxy says.

They're on a plane, on their way to Bulgaria. There's bombs to diffuse. Eggsy grins and thanks her, tightening the knot of his tie importantly. The green has grown on him. He's heard it really brings out his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: ataraxetta


End file.
